


The legend of Evandar

by Ms_Faker



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Ancient dragon magic, Eragon and Arya's children, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Return to Alagaësia, Strong OC, What happens after the Inheritance cycle, repercussion to magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Faker/pseuds/Ms_Faker
Summary: Making a name of oneself in a world filled with heroes and legends is hard, especially when one's the son of one. Evandar, son of Eragon Lord of Arngor Mountain and master of the new generation of riders, and of Arya queen of the elves, he must find his place in the world away from his parent's shadows, something thats easier said than done. Seeing his son's frustration, especially since an egg won't hatch for him, he sends him away to Alagaësia on a quest to find and recruit new riders unaware of the troubles browning there.





	1. Prologue

The lights were dim, barely making anything visible inside the room. The only light source, in fact, came from a small oil lantern hanging from a wide, three wooden column ceiling. The room itself wasn't very big. With just two doors opposite each other and a wooden bench on the side, the room had a claustrophobic feel to it. To make it worse, upon its walls there were no windows just a couple of paintings of beautiful landscapes, and creatures that contributed well with the overall feel of the room. In fact, everything in the room seemed to have its place, everything but the man pacing frantically across the room.

The man in question was tall, lean but well built, and the clothes he wore were lavished and spotless. Upon his waist, a long sword with a blue diamond on its hilt hung proudly from a well-decorated scabbard and strap. As if his lavished clothing wasn't enough, the man's appearance was quite different from that of most men. His hair was brown and medium-sized, as it reached his shoulders. He had dark brown, slightly slanted eyes and a slightly rounded face, with a bit of ruggedness to it around the jaws. Protruding from his long hair there were a set of long pointy ears, holding his hair back behind them. Overall, the man was quite handsome due to his fair skin, and slanted eyes, but there was also a ruggedness to him that complimented to his look rather than take away from it. However, due to his frown and worried expression, he looked more haggard than he should.

' _Calm down Eragon._ ' Said a stern female voice to the man, whose name was Eragon.

The elf-like man pursed his lips and continued to pace not at all paying any attention to the voice.

' _It's been hours already, how long can this take Saphira?_ 'Asked Eragon in his head, finally stopping in the middle of the room and pushing his hair back haphazardly.

The voice didn't respond right away, instead, it waited as Eragon -unable to stay still for longer than a minute- began to pace around in circles once more.

' _She'll be fine. If time has shown us anything, is that that elf of yours is quite resilient. You picked a strong mate to bear your offspring, there's no need to worry_.'

The tips of Eragon's ears turned red ever so slightly, but his worried expression did not change as he continued to look down at the floor and continued to pace around in circles.

' _She hasn't been doing well the last few weeks, what if there's complications? You know elven children are rare, and to birth one is even more of a challenge, and what's more, the child is also part human.'_  He said, stopping on the spot once more and looking up at the ceiling as if looking for answers.

' _What does you being human have anything to do with it? We both know this hasn't been a problem thus far, Arya already-'_

' _Because I'm different from all other riders. Yes maybe she was fine last time, but whos to say she will be this time?'_  Eragon asked, his gaze looking down at his feet as he knit his brows.

' _I don't know what I would do if something happened to either of them Saphira_.' He whispered gently in his mind, sounding more scared than he had been in years.

A moment of silence passed as Eragon stood there in the dim lit room until finally, Saphira spoke again.

' _Oh, little one e_ -'

Before she could finish what she was going to say, the door behind Eragon burst wide open with such intensity, that it almost flew right off its hinges causing Eragon to turn sharply on the spot to look at the person that had come in.

Said person was an elf, with short brown hair and a long white tunic that appeared crumpled. Upon entering the room his gaze was instantly on Eragon, looking at him worriedly.

" _Eragon elda, you better come quickly._ " The elf said in the ancient language with a worried tone.

Eragon took in a sharp breath, and without thinking it twice or even looking at the elf, he practically leaped out of the room and ran at full speed down the long hall that would lead him to his destination.

In no time at all, he was in front of a large dark oak door, and without thinking twice about it he reached for the doorknob and opened it with more force than he should.

The door open creaked open, and the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of potions, magic, and oil coming from burned out candles that laid all around the room.

He almost gagged from the strong smell, as he scrunched up his nose, but the didn't stop to think further on the scent. Instead, his crazed looking eyes roamed about the large room as if looking for something, and It didn't take him very for his eyes to find what he was looking for. Right in front of him there stood a large four-poster bed that had a fine linen sheet covering the expensive feather mattress. As if the extravagant bed wasn't enough -especially with a mattress fit for nobility- the wood itself was decorated with carvings of dragons. However, despite its lavish appearance, not everything was as it seemed.

Laying on top of the bed, and crumpling the bed sheet haphazardly laid an unconscious, yet beautiful woman. She had long raven-black hair that spread out on top of a soft pillow, revealing a set of pointed ears. Her closed eyes were slanted, and her face bore a delicate feel to it, as well as her petite form that was laying softly on top of a few sheets that were covered in what appeared to be her blood, and at that Eragon's eyes widened. His heart almost stopped as he took the scene in front of him.

"Arya." He said her name softly, as he looked at the sheets covered with blood. He had seen birthings before, and therefore he knew this much blood was uncommon.

With his eyes stuck to her, he took a step towards her fulling intending to stand by her side and check if she was alright, not at all noticing the other woman in the room.

"I wouldn't do that, I just managed to stabilize her. I don't want you screwing up my hard work, and make things worse" A soft voice said from the corner of the room, stopping him dead on his tracks.

Quickly changing his view from the bed to the corner, he looked at the woman standing by one of the oil lamps. She had long hair and wore a simple green tunic. Unlike the woman called Arya, and Eragon, her ears were rounded. Upon her arms she held a small bundle of sheets, covering whatever it was she was holding.

Eragon's eyes narrowed, as he changed his trajectory.

"Angela...what happened," he asked softly, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he approached her slowly. His heart beating strongly as he thought the worse. At moments like this, he really wished the herbalist would stop treating him like a child, especially when his patience was wearing thin.

' _Clear your mind little one._ ' the voice of Saphira said gently in his head, but this time he barely paid any attention to her. He was on edge, and his emotions were scrambled to the point that it was a miracle he was actually doing what Angela said and not go to Arya.

Angela's grip on the bundle tightened, and she sighed snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Everything started fine, she was doing well and so was the child, but that quickly changed. As we were preparing to deliver the baby Arya began to experience strange outflux of magic, coming from both the baby and herself, causing her to fall unconscious." Angela looked at Eragon confused as she recalled what happened.

"I had never seen anything quite like it before, and I tried to calm her magic as well as the baby's before we began the procedure, but I was unable to. In the end, we were forced to act quickly and deliver the baby, that is when things began to get complicated," she told him, as he slowly continued to walk towards her his eyes now on the bundle in her arms.

"I used my own techniques, and the elves used their magic and through that, we managed to deliver the baby," she said softly, looking up at him as he now stood before her looking not at her but down at the bundle in her arms, with both awe and fear.

In Angela's arms, safely covered in fresh white sheets laid a small baby, smaller than what he knew was deemed healthy. His little arms that were sticking out of the sheet were laying by his side holding on to a strand of Angela's hair softly inside his fist. On top of his head, he had barely noticeable scruff of brown hair that almost looked blond. He had small pointed ears that looked more rounded than the usual elf ears, very much like his own. His eyes were slanted slightly at the edges, like most elves and his little lips were tiny as well as his nose. The shape of his head was oval like Arya's, but his jaws were sharp like his, and his cheeks were full with a puff of red tinge on them. His eyes were closed so he couldn't know whose eye colour he inherited, but he just knew he must have gotten his mother's beautiful green eyes. Either that or he simply refused to think he inherited his ugly mud brown eyes.

' _He's beautiful. Unlike you_ ' joked Shapira in his head, snapping him out of his thoughts as he looked down at his son in awe.

At those words, Eragon's smile broadened but the edges of his lips didn't reach his eyes, instead, his expression changed to one of worry as he continued to look at the too peaceful, pale child in Angela's arms. Just by seeing how motionless he was in her arms he didn't need someone telling him that he was sick, he knew just, by the way, struggled to even breath. Most children cry when they're born, but he just laid there with his eyes closed and that made his heart stop.

Slowly he raised his hand and laid it on top of his son's head, barely touching him, too afraid he might hurt him.

"How…" he stopped, unable to formulate words.

Angela turned to look at the bed. "Arya is fine now. After she birthed the child the outfluxes stopped and we manage to stabilize her. However…"

Her attention returned to the child in her arms, and her grip on him tightened ever so slightly.

"The baby wasn't doing well, we managed to stabilize him a little, but I fear that won't be enough. His magic is acting wildly, and lashing out at his own body. Arya was able to withstand it, but he's just a baby. If we don't manage to stop it then…"

She stopped and looked up at Eragon who was still looking down at the child in her arms his expression unreadable as his arms reached for his son. Without a second thought, Angela relinquished her hold on the boy, who leaned into Eragon but still didn't open his eyes.

For a moment of silence, Eragon held on to his son in his arms, not looking up at her or doing anything as he simply just stood there looking down at the boy.

As he looked at his sleeping face, he couldn't help but remembered how excited he and Arya had been at the new edition to the family, and they weren't the only ones. The other riders, as well as those in Alagaësia -who knew of the unborn child as soon as he got the news- were excited. Even their son -who they had sent to Ellesméra to keep an eye on the elven kingdom while his mother is in Arngor- was overjoyed at the prospect of finally seeing his little brother. Unable to keep their excitement, for months he and Arya, who he had not seen in years, had spent most of their time decorating their son's room, as well as spending time together despite how busy he was with the riders. She had come to Arngor mountain a few months ago to give birth to their son among the riders, knowing he would be safer here than he would be in Alagaësia among all those who still wanted to exact their revenge on them. Both he and Arya agreed that -like his brother before him- he would need to stay in Arngor at least until he became a rider and could take care of himself. So in hindsight, they had prepared for everything, but never once did they think something like this might happen, no parent would, but then again he was no regular father.

His grip on the baby tightened, and he looked at him with determination.

He won't let his son die, he has saved countless people before, he could save his own son.

With his mind made up, he tucked his son safely in his arm, turned around sharply and made his way out of the room with Angela asking where he was going but he didn't once turn to look back. By the feel of his son's magic he didn't have much time left, so time was of the essence.

Quickly he made his way through the halls, passing a few others along the way who looked at him shocked and startlement, as asked if he was ok to which he didn't answer. He simply kept running down the halls, and then the courtyard until he finally reached a large set of double doors that had various inscriptions, and locks upon it.

Eragon looked at the locks, and raised the palm of his hand, holding the baby on the other.

" **Ládrin.** " he whispered.

The large locks on the door slowly began to lift on their own, and the inscriptions burned bright as fire. When the large doors opened on their own, Eragon walked through them and into the darkness, the doors closing shut behind him, locking itself with magic once more.

Now in darkness, Eragon brought his hand up and without having to use the ancient language, a ball of fire formed in the palm of his hand lighting the way. A long corridor laid ahead of him, devoid of any decorations as well as lanterns or windows. Without looking around he walked through the corridor with his hand held high to lite the way, meanwhile thinking it was odd how he hadn't heard from Saphira ever since leaving the room.

As if on cue the dragon rumbled in his head.

' _I'm right here little one._ ' she said gently, and Eragon felt his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

After a little while of walking down the corridor, he arrived at his destination. A large archway made of stoned that had carvings of dragons all around it.

Without wasting any time to look at the beautiful archway, he walked through it.

The room was dark like the corridor, but he quickly raised his hand and intensified the flames, revealing everything before him. The room was large, filled with large shelves made of wood intricately carved to look like flowers and branches. On said shelves there laid countless of what appeared to be diamonds of various sizes, some quite small and some bigger than a man's head. The colour of each individual stone was different, casting a beautiful rainbow like shadow the closer he got to them.

Eragon walked to the centre of the room, looking straight at a golden stone.

' _Eragon, Saphira welcome. What brings you here_?" asked a deep voice, followed by a few other voices.

Eragon took a step closer to the golden stone.

' _Glaedr elda, Umaroth Elda. Atra esterni ono thelduin._ ' He greeted hastily, knowing full well the older dragons wouldn't look highly on him forgetting his manners. He couldn't afford to anger the old dragons, not when he needed his help.

' _Atra du evarínya ono varda_.' Responded Saphira

The older dragons grumbled as a response, but they did not say anything. They no doubt saw how shaken he was and knew there was something wrong.

' _Let us put pleasantries behind, and speak daéda abr shur'tugal'_  grumbled Glaedr.

Eragon took another step closer, and his hold on the child tightened as he looked down at him worriedly.

His voice came out weak, and desperate as he spoke.

' _My son is dying; I humbly request your help ebrithil.'_

As he said those words the room fell silent, all eldunari fell quiet as they seemed to progress his request, meanwhile, Eragon could no longer stay still.

He nervously tapped his foot against the stone floor and looked away from Galedr's eldunari to look around the room aimlessly. He didn't have much time, the longer time passed the more still his son grew in his arms.

After what felt like ages, Umaroth spoke up.

' _Why come to us daéda abr shur'tugal'?_ ' Asked the dragon simply, and so Eragon responded quickly.

' _The best healers in Arngor couldn't help him, I had no other choice but to come to you.'_  He responded, and looked up at the dragon's white eldunari.

' _Please… just help him._ " He begged, as his son moved ever so slightly in his arms.

The room fell silent once more, as Eragon looked around worried they might refuse him.

Umaroth grumbled deeply breaking the silence before he responded.

'For dragon kind, those that are too weak to survive are discarded, in this notion I would advise you to let nature run its course. However, I see you will take this as ill-advised.'

The dragon paused, and Eragon felt his heart hammer inside his chest, as he thought of what he could do if they refused to help. As he looked for options, he realized he didn't have many. If the best healers he had, and Angela couldn't help him then he doubt he could be of much help.

Once more the dragon spoke again, but this time it was Glaedr.

' _Usually, we would refuse your request, but since we dragons owe much to you and Saphira, we will do our best to help the child. But do head my warning young one before you choose to receive our help. As you know our magic is highly volatile in nature; even we don't know how the child will be affected down the line. So it is up to you to make this decision.'_

Just as Glaedr said the last words, Eragon practically jumped on the spot to respond. He didn't need to think it further, no father would need to consider their offer for more than a second. Whatever repercussions this might have he would overcome them, right now he had to save his son before it was too late.

' _Just save him_ ' he said, his voice devoid of any doubt, but full of worry as he waited for the dragons respond.

It felt like ages as Eragon stood there looking at the Eldunari, his heart beating faster and his breathing quickening. Saphira brushed his mind softly as a way to reassure him, but he was too tense to even acknowledge it.

After what must have been a minute passed, Umaroth finally spoke up again.

'Very well.'

As he said those words his grip on his son tightened, as a light began to emanate from all the eldunari, engulfing the room in light and the child began to cry.


	2. Evandar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding language
> 
> So on my first draft of this chapter I had a big chunk of the dialogue written into the ancient language, as well as Quenya (elf language from Lotr) for more intricate paragraphs. I did this to make it more realistic seeing as our characters speak in this language, however, I then realized how incredibly confusing this would be to the regular reader. This being said, I ask that you remember that the language spoken is, in fact, the ancient language, and only when especially say so does it change to something else. Also' it'll be italicized to make it easier.
> 
> If I ever do write in the ancient language I will include its translation at the end of the chapter for those that are curious to know what exactly was said. Now on to the story.

He brought down his sword with as much force as possible, creating a large gash across the straw dummy.

" _Again_." A deep, yet musical voice said from behind him, and Evandar sighed but didn't complain.

He brought his sword up behind his head with both hands, widened his stance and with a speed greater than humans, he brought down the sword.

The sound of straw being cut in half reverberated across the field as he slashed across the dummy's chest once more, creating an X. This time the cut was deeper, but still not quite deep enough as the voice spoke again.

" _Once again, sloppy. Your stance is too wide, so is your swing. The grip on your sword is too tight, limiting your movement. Come now Evander, again_." The voice commanded, and Evandar fought the urge to turn and swing his sword at the elf.

He had spent hours working on the same swing, and yet swing after swing he was told to try again. His stance wasn't right, his arm movements were incorrect, he was exposing his back too much, his knees weren't bent enough or too much, whatever it was Blödhgarm would always come up with a different critique.

Evandar's grip on his sword tightened, and Blödhgarm sighed.

" _Let's take a break._ "

His grip on his sword softened and he walked to one of the tables and put his sword inside the scabbard that was laid atop the table. He then walked to a chair and sat on it, watching the others train.

Most people present at the training field were elves. They were all either training on straw dummies or training against other opponents, all of them moving their swords expertly and with ease. Their sword arm seeming to meld with their sword as they slashed, and thrust their swords against their opponent. As Evandar watched them he wasn't as impressed as a human would no doubt be, but he was somewhat impressed by the older elves who's skills outranked any other elf. He himself was good with the sword, but never at the level of some of the other elves that were as deadly with a sword as a dragon.

Likewise, as there were masters with the swords there were also, those that had never held a sword in their life. Interestingly enough the ones who's sword skill were lacking were human. These humans were all of different ages, some of them as young as thirteen to the oldest being forty. Some of them knew how to hold and use a sword as they kept up with their Elven counterparts, but some of them he could tell had never held a sword in their lives as they hacked away at the straw dummies as if they held axes.

As he watched them and saw Blödhgarm beside one of the younger humans, he felt proud of himself as the human helplessly tried to imitate the forms the elf was showing him. Of course, Blödhgarm had patience, and so he would correct the boy, not once saying anything that might offend him. That patience that he showcased, he never extended to him as he would push him to his limits and then blatantly point out all of his mistakes and that annoyed him to no end. However, he knew he was judging the elf unfairly, he was a sword master, but where his true skills lie was with magic a skill he himself wasn't too good at.

A little roar snapped him out of his thoughts, and he jerked his head up to look at the sky.

From the sky, a small brown dragon glided -more than flew- down to the training field. The small hatchling wasn't bigger than the length of his entire arm, and lithe body looked as delicate as his new set of scales that were starting to grow out.

The small dragon glided down towards the boy and gave out another tiny roar causing the boy to look up from his training and look at the approaching dragon.

"Erve!" The boy shouted in the human tongue, as the dragon glided into his outstretched arms, pushing him to the ground.

The boy laughed and hugged the little dragon, disrupting everyone's practice as they all looked away from their task to look at the boy almost disapprovingly until other small roars came from the sky and everyone looked up again.

Twenty little dragons, all of them just as tiny as the brown one, and all of them of different colours glided down to the field.

Everyone -who had looked at the boy disapprovingly- began to imitate him as they all greeted their dragon companion, with equal excitement.

Evandar huffed and looked down at the ground annoyed as everyone in the field spoke with their tiny dragon -well at least try to speak, seeing as they could not yet speak fluently.

These riders were the new riders that had arrived but two weeks ago, which is why they were practicing here and the dragons were absent. During the first few weeks of arriving at Arngor Mountain, riders would be separated from their dragons more than half the time as they learned how to fly from older dragons. Meanwhile, the riders were instructed on magic, as well as learning the ancient language if they do not know it. It was only a month later that the riders would begin to receive sword training, and then another two months to receive battle training, and then by four months, dragons were big enough to be ridden, so riders received flying training. It was three years that a rider and dragon could take a test to become full-fledged rider and dragon, of course, some were an exemption depending on their skills. The next milestone for a rider would be to become an elder which could take many years, or take no time at all depending on the rider and dragon's skills and wisdom. After that, the only milestone was gaining a place at the council, but not many manage to achieve that.

According to his father, these milestones in their training would have taken years, and even centuries to achieve in the old day, but this new order was different since it was still at its infancy.

Evandar looked at the boy bitterly who still held onto the dragon and was smiling down at him.

Oh yes, he knew much about riders and dragons, and their entire training process. He was raised in this mountain, after all, not to mention his father.

However fortunate, or unfortunate it may be depending on who he talked to, he is Evandar, youngest son of Eragon lord of Arngor Mountain, and of Arya queen of the elves, both of them saviours of his forefathers land Alagaësia. Both of them legendary dragon riders, especially his father who founded the new generation and thus became its leader.

Now, one would expect him to be just as legendary and strong as his parents, but he is anything but. He's not a rider, nor is he particularly good at magic or sword fighting. He isn't as wise as most elves, especially since he tended to get himself into stupid situations, nor does he have the patience of most elves either. So no he isn't some legendary prince of the elves, or dragon rider either, he's just a simple Halfling who isn't particularly skilled at anything, and that just irked him.

Of course, he's tried to remedy that all his life, but every time he tested for a dragon egg he was rejected, and nobody really understood why.

"Evandar."

Evandar raised his head and looked at Blödhgarm.

" _I'm going to train the riders for the remainder of the day. I want you to continue practicing the same swing, and while you do remember everything I told you._ " He ordered, and with that, the furry elf went to the boy whose smile fell after Blödhgarm told him he would be staying to train him.

Evandar shook his head, took his scabbard tied it to his waist and left the field. He had no plans on spending his whole day practicing the same swing over and over again, especially not when he couldn't see what was wrong with it. No, he refused to look like an imbecile, so he was going to train but not the same swing.

He walked through the forest, going to his favourite spot in the mountain. It didn't take him very long to reach his destination, and he quickly walked to it.

The place was a cliff overseeing the fort built around the mountain. Overhead there were various caves carved into the mountainside, each going higher and higher into the mountain and each one bigger than the other. Dragons were flying across over the fort, some of them with riders on their back some without, and some of the dragons flew into the caves to rest. On the ground, there were riders training either magic or sword fighting, or they were simply going from one place to another.

He took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air.

He came up here every day, at the same time. This was his favourite spot in the whole mountain because he could see everything from up here, especially the riders train.

Evandar sat on the grass, folded his legs and took one of the pebbles from the ground and began twirling it with magic as he looked at the training field below.

Almost directly under him, there was a large training field, devoid of any training dummies as the other one had, instead this one was one large empty square grass field. The space itself was boring unlike the other one, which was filled with dummies and weapons to choose from, but what it lacked in aesthetics it made up for it with the people training on it.

In the middle of the field, with their swords drawn and lined up into rows facing the front, were full fledge riders.

He knew they were indeed full fledge riders not just because he knew this was where they trained, but due to what they wore. Every one of them wore the same black and red shirt tunic, with their scabbard tied to their waist, and black pants with long black boots. Their swords, however, they all had different colour diamonds at the hilt, representing the colour of their dragon. The only one that wasn't wearing the same as everyone was the one at the head of the formation, the one all the other riders were looking at for instructions. Evandar knew he was a teacher, due to the different patterns on his tunic as well as the colour itself. Unlike his students, he wore a white tunic with golden lining on it.

Unlike the others present who he barely knew, this one he knew personally.

His name is Äldthás, an elf, an elder, and one of the greatest riders of their time.

Evandar looked at the rider in almost awe.

Having become a rider at age fifty-one to the white dragon Elentári he quickly gained the respect of everyone in Arngor due to his incredible skills with a sword, magic, flying and his overall skills as a rider. But what really set him atop many riders was his deeds in Alagaësia sixteen years ago when he alongside his assigned teacher caught the leaders of a rising rebel group who still supported the old, mad king Galbatorix. He, his teacher, and one other fellow student managed to defeat the small army on their own with no casualties on their side, and very few wounds. When the rider of Arngor learned of this, the three of them quickly received praise from everyone including Eragon. Everyone looked up to him when he returned, and yet he was refused the spot of council member due to the ancient dragons of old deciding that he lacked the wisdom to become a member of the council. So now he spends his days training the other riders, and everyone agreed it was just a waste of talent.

The elf Äldthás barked a command that he couldn't hear, and everyone in the field stood at attention, not even moving a muscle as they awaited his next command.

Äldthás walked up to them, passing them all, inspecting them one by one with a critical eye and correcting a few until he was pleased and returned to his spot, and that was when he started.

The elf barked a command and all the riders swung their swords at an arch, back kicked into the air, and landed on a back stand all of them in perfect sync. What was really impressive though, was that all of them pulled off the form with equal skill. Not one was better than the other, and all of them he could tell were of different races which made it even more impressive. To see humans, dwarfs, and urgals keep up with the skills of an elf was almost unheard of due to their years upon years of training, and yet here they were training in sync with each other.

A hand patted his shoulder, snapping him from his concentration and causing the rock to fall through his fingers and back to the grass as he looked up at the person beside him.

Said person was an elf, but his appearance was a little different from most elves especially around the eyes. The elf had long, neck length hair. He had long sharp pointy ears that were slightly rounded at the tip. His eyes were slanted like all elves, and the colour of his eyes were a dark green making one wonder if the eyes were indeed green. His face was an oval shape like most elves, but there was a bit of sharpness to his jaws which was rare. He wore a brown jacket that was opened, revealing a silk white shirt under it, and he wore a set of dark trousers and a pair of high boots. On his back, he carried a sword with a gold diamond on the hilt, as well as a dagger strapped to his chest.

Evander gave the elf a small smile.

" _Shouldn't you be training the others, Dûrion?_ " He asked looking away, and picking up the same pebble and began to twirl it in the air.

" _I should, but I manage to convince Äldthás to train them for me just for today._ " He answered, his voice musical yet deep and sharp, with the ability to call people to attention.

Not looking back at him, Evander continued to twirl the pebble, not even turning his eyes to look at the other elf. He just looked at Äldthás as he passed through the rows of riders, inspecting them and kicking the feet under those who's stance were not to his standards.

" _Well that's a first, you like to laugh at their incompetence especially that of the humans. Or did you finally realize people actually get annoyed by your very presence?_ " He Asked, and listened as Dûrion shifted on his spot getting closer to him, but he still didn't turn to look at him.

" _You dare speak to a council member in such a manner_?" Dûrion hissed angrily, and he could hear the rasp of his blade as it was taken out of its scabbard, but once more Evander still didn't look back at him, instead, he reached for his sword.

In less than a second he leaped to his feet and in the process took out his sword, and pointed it at Dûrion who looked at him, not in fear, but amusement.

" _Not very wise to draw your sword against me brat. I hope you can at least make it a little challenging._ "

In a single bound Dûrion crossed the distance between them thrust his blade at Evandar's flank. Having an elf's reflexes despite being part human, he was able to keep up with the fasts swordsman however, Dûrion was another thing. Seeming to move as fast as an arrow, Evandar struggled to bring his sword up and deflect the deadly blow to his ribs, sparks flying from their blades as they made contact, his eyes widen as he looked at the blades

As their swords separated, Evandar leaped back to assess his opponent, but as soon as his feet touched the ground, Dûrion leaped at him once more. This time he really had to struggle to bring his sword up and deflect the incoming blow to his neck with the throat of his sword, the blow resonating through his bones and bringing pain to his shoulder.

He grit his teeth in pain, but he had no time to heal his injured arm as his opponent disconnected their swords and swung a series of blows at him. He was definitely on the defensive as he tried his best to deflect every blow, some of them managing to get through his defences.

The golden blade of Dûrion glinted in the light as he brought it up and swung it down atop his head, Evandar's grip on his sword tightened. He used all the strength he had left to dodge the blow to the head that would have rendered him unconscious. Once out of danger he brought up his blade and brought it down quickly, cutting through the air in a loud swish as he used the form he had been practicing with Blödhgarm.

For a small moment, he smirked as he thought he had him. That the blow would surely hit this time, especially since the form was perfect however, there was no such luck. Just as the tip of his blade graced the elf's chest he quickly maneuvered his sword to block the blow expertly, and before Evandar could change tactics the elf flicked the hilt of his sword with great strength, causing Evandar to lose his grip on the hilt and sending the sword flying.

For a brief second Evandar looked at his opponent unarmed, and with widened eyes, and his sweat fell down his face. Just as with the duel, his opponent did not hesitate as he jumped in the air and back kicked him across the chest. Evandar went flying from the blow, hurdling through the air and into the trees behind him, emanating a loud thunk from the tree that shook dangerously.

Evandar's body slumped on the ground. The first thing he did was take a deep breath, and then he tried to leap to his feet, but before he could Dûrion was at his side. The older elf grabbed his arm, and bent it at an awkward angle, causing pain to instantly ripple through his arm to the very tip of his fingers.

Evandar gave out a low growl of pain, especially since he had already injured his shoulder. Unable to continue fighting he hit the ground several times, signalling to Dûrion that he gave in, but the elf wouldn't relent and so Evandar groaned in pain once more and closed his eyes.

" _Ok, ok I give!"_  He hissed.

Dûrion kept his arm pulled behind his back for a brief second more, but then let go of him and pulled back.

Evandar slumped down on the ground, sand dust flying over his face.

The older elf dusted his clothes of the grime from the grass, and pulled his slightly messy hair back, unlike Evandar whose hair was sticking at various angles and filled with sand.

" _You're getting better_." The older elf commended, as he offered Evander a hand.

Evandar looked at the hand skeptically, but then Dûrion offered him a smile and waved his hand at him as if telling him it was fine. Without thinking it further he grabbed the hand, and the elf pulled him to his feet.

Once off the ground, he heard his bone creak in protest, and his shoulder burn but he didn't complain as he patted the dust off his pants, and chuckled.

" _Still not good enough to beat you though_." He mused, patting his shirt to get the dust of that now, as well as his hair and then walking to where his sword had been thrown to the ground in the fight and put it back inside its scabbard.

Dûrion chuckled in return and put his sword away inside its scabbard on his back.

" _I'm your older brother, I've had years of practice_." He stated.

Fixing his hair, he rolled his eyes and healed his shoulder with magic. Once the task was done he rolled his shoulder to make sure it was fully healed, once he was pleased he walked to the edge of the cliff once more to look at the training riders. They were now all forming a circle in the middle of the field, watching a human and an elf duel each other. Their fight was -unlike his with his brother- was too well balanced, neither gained the upper hand over the other despite their strength difference. Eventually, the duel was stopped by Äldthás who began to critique their form, and technique, while both rider simply listened intently.

He heard footsteps approach him, and at the corner of his eye, he saw Dûrion as he stood beside him looking down at the riders.

" _Sorry about the arm._ " He apologized, as Evandar looked away from the riders to look at his brother.

His face was apologetic, not at all amused.

" _If I remember correctly I'm the one who told you to take duelling more seriously. You're the only one whom I can actually have a real sword fight with."_

" _Yes, but that doesn't mean I take pleasure in treating you like a training dummy."_  He smirked, his eyes filled with amusement as Evandar looked at him offended.

" _A training dummy?"_  He hissed.

Dûrion chuckled.

" _Well, maybe I exaggerate a bit. How about a moving dummy."_  He asked with amusement, stifling a laugh.

" _How is that any better?"_  He asked angrily.

Dûrion roared with laughter, while he was not at all amused as looked at his older brother annoyed.

Evandar fumed and Dûrion pated his shoulder, his laughter slowly dying.

" _I only jest, you really are getting a lot better. Just a couple more decades and you'll be a formidable swordsman I'm sure."_

Evandar hummed in response, and turned his head back to the riders below, seeing that two new riders were now duelling each other.

He truly did hope his brother was right. If he couldn't be good at anything else, then at the very least he hoped he can become a great swordsman one day. Perhaps then he can really go out into the world on his own.

" _You know I didn't skip my teaching session to look at it being done for me from afar. I came to ask if you wanted to go flying?_ " He asked, Evandar's ears twitching at the mention of flying.

Turning on the spot, all interest on the riders forgotten, he looked at his brother with an excited smile that he returned with his own wide smile. He almost jumped to say yes, but then he remembered what had happened earlier in the day and his smile fell.

Noticing his reaction, Dûrion's smile fell and he looked at his brother concerned, but then something seemed to click as he sighed.

" _You tested for an egg again didn't you_?"

Evander slowly nodded as he looked away from his brother, and looked at the training riders instead with an almost longing expression, wanting to join them in their training.

" _I take it didn't go well."_

Evander scoffed and crossed his arms in anger, especially as he remembered his father disappointed face when yet another egg didn't hatch for him. Of course, he had tried to mask it with a reassuring smile when he noticed Evandar was looking at him, but it was too late for that. He knew his father was disappointed that he isn't a rider, not that he didn't know that before.

" _Do you see a dragon hatchling by my side_?" He huffed.

Dûrion pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck almost awkwardly.

" _Good point there, but you know you shouldn't try so hard or rush it. Getting a dragon isn't an easy process, sometimes it takes years to find the right match but you'll get there eventually._ "

Evander huffed in annoyance and knot his brows in frustration.

" _It never takes longer than a couple of months, and it definitely doesn't go as far as trying every egg in the mountain only to be rejected by all of them."_

Dûrion continued to stroke the back of his neck and looked at Evander unsure of what to say. The usually confident half-elf looked awkward, and almost out of place as he tried to reassure his brother.

" _True, but I'm s-"_

" _Vikelfr hatched for you when you were thirteen, four years younger than I am now and you weren't even trying. Father just handed you the egg to hold while he did something and then lo and behold, you're a rider. If only it were that easy._ " He hissed bitterly.

A moment of silence passed as both of them looked at the riders below. The sound of metal against metal, as well as the wind as it blew through the leaves, was the only thing that could be heard.

From where he stood, Dûrion formed his lips into a firm line, looking down at his brother with sadness. Both of them remained silent as they look at the riders sheath their swords to move on to flying training.

" _Everything's so much easier for you Dûrion. The favourite son of the great Eragon and Arya, a prodigy at everything he applies himself to, and a council member, second only to father and mother. While I can't even get a dragon._ " He hissed the last part angrily.

After he said those words the atmosphere tensed and became even more awkward.

He regretted his words as soon as he said those them. He doesn't resent his brother in any way, in fact, quite the opposite. He cares deeply for his brother, and he looks up to him above all else, especially since he was about the only one who took him seriously and truly believed he could become something in life. However, he couldn't deny he was jealous of him either.

Among the riders, Äldthás is considered an expert rider, but Dûrion is a master and almost a legend. Having become a rider at the age of thirteen and then an elder at the age of nineteen due to how much promise he showed in his training. In fact, he was considered a prodigy by all who trained him, especially their father. Since Dûrion was a child their father had taken him in as his student and taught him everything he knew as well as getting the older dragons to teach him. And though he had been a child then, he had taken in every information given to him which is why he was already so skilled when he became a rider, making his training a breeze and allowing him to get through the ranks with ease. In fact, the reason Dûrion became an elder when he was just nineteen was because he saved a reckless young rider and dragon from certain death after they ventured into a storm that soon became a typhoon. After that, he gained the title of elder, and soon after he received a pupil as was customary and said pupil was none other than Äldthás. Eleven years later he became a member of the council, putting him seventh in place of the council order, but everyone knows he is fact second spot in regards to skills and strength, being just beneath their father.

So yes many looked up to his older brother due to his achievements, and so did he, but a small part of him wished he wasn't constantly under his brother's shadow.

For a long time both brothers remained quiet as they looked ahead, the riders already by their dragons and putting on their saddles.

The silence remained, until Dûrion gave out an awkward chuckle, causing his brother to look at him.

" _You know you shouldn't flatter me so, I'm not as great as you think. And besides I think that having such a brat as a brother balances out my greatness, not everyone is perfect after all."_

At that Evander couldn't help but smirk and shove his brother away, who righted himself right away and chuckled and shoved his little brother in return.

" _So are we going flying or not? You know you can always ride Saphira. Father's been busy in his study for weeks I'm sure she'll love to get a chance to spread her wings for a little competition._ "

Evandar scoffed and looked at his brother in amusement.

" _What competition? She's twice the size of Vikelfr. She just has to flap her wings once to beat him._ " He said, confident on the sapphire dragon's skills.

Vikelfr is a highly skilled dragon he gave him that but nowhere near the levels of the Saphira. She is a legend after all, and the oldest living dragon as well as the one who raised the new generation of wild dragons. Vikelfr on the other hand -though strong- didn't hold a candle to Saphira especially in size. But regardless, he still cared for both dragons having had ridden atop them since he was quite young.

" _Don't think so lowly of Vikelfr. He's quite fast and has beat dragons bigger than him before. And besides, size only makes you slower._ " He explained almost proud of the dragon.

" _Your confidence is m-"_

"Dûrion elda!" A voice shouted from behind them.

Both Evandar and Dûrion turned on the spot to look at the approaching man. He wore the riders garment, and a red sword hung from his waist. As he ran up to them and took a second to take in a deep breath seeing as how winded he clearly was. His dragon was probably far away and so he had to run across the entire mountain to reach them.

Dûrion furrowed his brows and looked at the rider concerned.

"Vemund?" He simply asked confused.

The man Vemund straightened up and looked at Dûrion with equal concern, and he knew something had happened.

"Dûrion elda, There has been an attack to the city Ilirea. The council request your presence at the Ereglad hall immediately." He stated in the language of man.

There has been an attack on the capital, how?

Evandar looked up at his brother and saw as the amusement and carefree nature he showed before drained from him, and an expressionless face took its place.

"How long ago was the attack?" He asked with a commanding voice, his accent barely noticeable as he spoke to the human in his native language.

"Four hours or so sir. The council has just been contacted."

Dûrion nodded and looked up at the sky.

As if on cue a large golden dragon landed behind him, his wings flapping as he lowered himself to his front legs. Both Vemund and Evandar took a step back from the strength of the wind the dragon was creating with his wings, but Dûrion merely looked up at the dragon, and with ease made his way up to his saddle were he sat.

The golden dragon raised its massive head off the ground and raised itself to its full size.

The dragon was large, as tall as two houses, and its body was muscular and intimidating, especially its large wings that folded neatly behind its back. His eyes were just as golden as the rest of his body, and they held a sort of coldness to them, more than he had seen on any dragon.

The name of this majestic dragon is Vikelfr, Dûrion's companion. The dragon didn't greet them as he looked at them and Evandar wasn't expecting him to. He knew the dragon wasn't known for his charisma, in fact, he barely spoke to anyone and when he did it was very short and blunt. Dûrion often told him it was because Vikelfr is a solitary soul, but it felt like there was more to it than that. It felt like the dragon was almost wild in nature. He'd heard of riders regretting the moment they became riders, but could it also work the other way around? He didn't know, but he did know Vikelfr is as intimidating as the wild dragons that roam the further reaches of the mountain, but he also knew that he cared deeply for Dûrion.

" _Head back home Evandar."_  Dûrion said, and then looked at the other rider.

"Make sure he makes there" He ordered the rider who vowed his head, and with that Vikelfr began to flap his wings and lifted off the ground, leaving Evandar and the rider behind.

 


	3. Ereglad hall

 

     “we can’t just stay here and do nothing!” a deep, angry voice growled his voice resonating throughout the hall. 

 

     The hall itself was large with incredibly tall ceiling, and various wooden chandeliers that lit the room with candles. Upon the wall there hung various paintings depicting battles long past, as well as various flags of many different nationalities. The largest of said flag was one with a white tree on it; the flag of Alagaësia which was almost as tall as the hall itself. Every little piece of decoration and the architecture itself made the hall appear grand and impressive, but what really caught the eyes were statues.

 

Standing from the stone floor were ten statues of men and elves all of them holding a real sword, with its point touching the floor and their hands lazily atop the hilt, with a different colour diamond on top of it. Said statues wore a full set of armour, and on their chest there stood an engraving of a mighty dragon, all of them different than the other. Above said mighty statues, there stood their proud names: Vrael, Anurin, Naeridana, Galzra and a few others. Whoever looked upon the mighty statues would be awed by them, but also terrified of their cold eyes that seemed to look down at all who entered the hall, as if judging, and protecting it from all who seek to do harm to it. 

 

The statues were indeed mighty, but the mightiest of all was a large one that stood under the flag of Alagaësia, and behind said statue stood a large carving of a dragon with its head held high, looking down at all those who walked by it. The statue of the elf was at the same position as all others, with his hands laid on top of each other as if holding a sword, but unlike the other, this one didn’t have a sword.

 

A top of the statues, and linning the walls there were many concave holes that were empty, all of them the size of a statue, all of them ready to house a statue. On the stone floor, there was a large square stone table that took up most of the space with its sheer size. Upon its surface their stood various golden goblets, and wine bottles. In the centre of said table, there laid carved into the stone a large, silver diffused spiral the Gedwëy ignasia; the mark of a rider. 

 

Seating by the large stone table were ten riders all of them of different species, all of them wearing a similar set of tunics, and all of them had their swords laid on the table in front of them. Behind all the riders, sat their dragons all of them of different sizes and colours, their scales shining from the candles up ahead, casting the room in different colours. 

 

The person who had spoken before was an Urgal who had massive twisted horns protruding from above his ears. His eyes were yellow and small, as most Urgals did. His hair was black and long, tied neatly in a small golden binding. As for height, the Urgal was tall even when seating and behind him sat an equally large black dragon with similar yellow eyes that were looking down at the other rider.

 

  “And what do you propose, that we go and kill all those that dare oppose our allies? The perpetrators were dealt with under the full law of the empire, there is no need for rider intervention,” said Jaida a tall human woman who had long red hair, and blue eyes. Whoever laid eyes on her would be awed by her beauty, which was greater than most human and even some elves. Behind her stood a large light purple dragon with dark eyes, its size was larger than the black one. 

 

The Urgal -whos name was Ulvoshz- huffed, and opened his mouth but before he could speak, the doors to the hall opened, prompting everyone to turn and look at it. 

 

From the door in walked Dûrion, his eyes ahead as everyone's eyes were glued on him, following him from the door to his chair. Behind him followed the large golden dragon Vikelfr, his large form barely missing the many decorations and statues as he walked, its wings folded tightly on his body.  

 

     Once Dûrion was sitting on his chair, the meeting continued.

 

     “Dûrion, glad you could make it,” Jaida said almost sarcastically. 

 

     Unamused, Dûrion kept his expression stoic as always as he folded his hands in front of him and looked at Jaida, the second in command among the council and of the riders. Her rank despite being human was earned through hard work, and determination but again Dûrion always thought that being one of his father’s first rider it was bound to happen. This is why a few of the riders didn’t look on her so highly, despite her skills and merit.  

 

“I do apologize for my tardiness, I was training with my brother,” he explained, unsheathing his sword and placing it in front of him.

 

At the mention of his brother, his father, Eragon looked at him with narrowed, distrustful eyes. However, his expression didn’t last long as he quickly changed it to his normal one.  

 

“So Ilirea was attacked, who attacked it?” Dûrion asked, going straight to the point, his eyes looking at all of them. 

 

“A group of well-trained mages. We have reasons to believe they’re in league with the Vanyalí” Manda a human woman answered, much like Jaida she had long hair but her’s was black and her eyes were dark brown. Behind her stood a brown dragon, one of the most horrible colour a dragon could have for scales. 

 

Upon hearing the name Vanyalí, Dûrion curved a brow as he looked at the human. He knew of the Vanyalí of course, every rider knew. They are a rogue group consisting of mages, elven and human alike all of them working to free themselves from the empire’s strong grasp on magic, through its many laws and regulations. When he was young he remembered how on his first visit to Alagaësia he had been shocked to find how magic was practically banned by the empire. Even the smallest and most innocent of magic were frowned upon, and this was due to queen Nasuada’s many laws to prevent magic users from abusing it. At first, her many laws were meant to protect all those that didn’t use magic but when her son, King Valfask, ascended the throne the laws became more and more absurd, to the point that anyone who could do the smallest amount of magic was ostracized by their communities. Even elves, the strongest of all the races in magic were treated terribly outside of Ellesméra. Truthfully he didn’t blame the Vanyalí -or its full name, the Melehtë abr vanyalí, power of magic- from standing up to the empire, but he also agreed that there were better ways to do it. Attacking cities and killing innocents was never the way. That was a code all riders lived by.  

 

“Why is that?” asked Dûrion, genuinely curious to know what happened. 

 

The one to answer was of course Jaida. 

 

“Because while the attack was underway, the city of Teirm was attacked by known members of Vanyalí. Athelstan and Alaasta.”

 

Dûrion nodded, knowing full well who those names belonged to. Athelstan is a human male, twenty-four years of age, quite young even among his kind, but just as skilled in magic as most elves. As for Alaasta, she’s a female elf who he had met before she went rogue and joined the Vanyalí. She’s quite skilled and formidable in the use of magic, more so than most elven elders and far more than he. Both she and Athelstan have created chaos in Alagaësia by hitting various empire targets and recruiting new members for their cause. Both of them made a name for themselves among the empire, and so they are two of the most wanted criminals in the land but they have never been caught. Even when the riders were involved a few years ago, they couldn’t catch them, it was almost as if they knew ahead of time where they were going to be, and so they slipped out of their grasp every single time.   

 

“I see… did you manage to capture them?” he asked, already knowing the answer. If they had indeed been captured he was sure his fellow council members would be busy talking about their upcoming execution. The riders are a peaceful people, who watch over the land of dragons and of Alagaësia but if provoked they can be quite vengeful, especially when they’re made fools of. 

 

The one to answer Dûrion had a somewhat deep, slightly musical voice that commanded all to attention as everyone looked at him. 

 

“Teirm Isn’t known for its defences against magic, nor does it have counteractive measures against mages so whoever attacked easily escaped their grasp. However, before they escaped a soldier manage to see the Vanyalí symbol engraved on one of the attacker's armour.” Eragon the head of the riders said and Dûrion looked at his father.

 

His father is the head of the dragon riders, lord of Arngor Mountain, and saviour of Alagaësia, which is why the statue directly behind him -which was the largest of them all- was his. His father was never one to search or demand reverence or glory so the statue was commissioned by the other members of the council, as well as Saphira’s. Of course, this wasn't the only statue of them, they had an even larger one by the entrance of the school, both of them life-size even Saphira’s which had her old scales attached to it making the statue shine when the sun shun upon it.

 

“What’s interesting is that both attacks at either city didn’t target any strategic building, nor did they target important political members. They simply attacked the hall of the riders recently built in Teirm, as well as the one in Ilirea even though there aren’t any riders stationed there at the moment. They also attacked a few specific houses that don’t really have anything of importance as far as we know. The people that live there were simple commoners, yet they choose to kill them all, but for what we do not know.” Jida told him, and Dûrion’s brows furrowed confused.

 

Now that was weird. Usually, the Vanyalí only target empire buildings and members not once were the riders targeted due to their affiliation with magic, but it seems that is no longer the case, and that was far worse news than the attacks themselves.  

 

“I don’t think that targeting the rider’s hall was a coincidence. It’s obvious they’re targeting us, and we should act in kind.” Ulvoshz growled, banging his hand on the table that despite being stone rumbled in protest.

 

     No one in the hall was affected, or shocked by the Urgal’s reaction, as they merely looked at him some in agreement while a few others shook their heads in disagreement. 

 

“But for what reason? If it’s true they’re targeting us then why attack when there are no riders? The group was strong enough to stand their ground against cities forces, they probably could have managed to kill a young rider. So why go when it’s empty?” asked Fnenra a dwarf, with a long brown beard and bald head asked confused. Among all the riders Fnenra was one of the few dwarfs among them, and for his great skills in combat and even magic, he gained the respect of all the riders. Oddly enough, however, instead of a sword as all riders bore he had a large axe. Behind Fnenra was his dragon companion, a red dragon.

 

“Because they want to get our attention,” Dûrion said.

 

Instantly everyone eyes shifted to him, waiting for him to explain himself, while most of them nodded in agreement not needing an explanation. He, of course, knew of his -for a lack of a better word- popularity among the riders. Having rescued a fellow rider at the age of nineteen, and stopping a rogue group in league with the old mad king, he had risen to practical legend among the riders. Not to mention that he was one of the very few who actually got to see some combat apart from his father of course. Because of this, many of the council members always looked highly on him, and that was something he could use to his advantage. 

 

“We still don’t quite understand what the Vanyalí want, but in recent years they’ve become a dangerous group. Not only that but they’ve begun targeting larger cities, getting more and more daring, and now it seems that they not only want Alagäesia’s attention but ours as well,” he said, and Ulvoshz nodded in agreement. 

 

 “I do not know why they would do something so foolish, but I agree with Ulvoshz. If they want our attention then we should give it to them, show them that we’re not to be trifled with.”

 

Once again, a few people nodded in agreement, while a few people shook their heads or look disapprovingly as if they couldn’t believe what he was proposing, one of which was Jaida, but she wasn’t the one to speak next.

 

‘ _That is a dangerous proposition. We know next to nothing about this group. For all, we know they’re counting on us to send riders, and I don’t think they’re doing it for no reason. We could very well be walking into a trap._ ’ Saphira declared, and as they did with his father everyone quieted as they looked at the massive sapphire dragon. 

 

 

The large green dragon Amrum who was seated behind his rider, Vridhgonal, an elf with long brown hair, and light blue eyes, craned his neck so that he could look straight at Saphira who was more than several heads taller than him. 

 

‘ _Trap or not Saphira elda, we cannot just stand by and do nothing. The king of the Broddring Empire has already requested our aid. We may not reside on Alagaësia but we can’t just ignore our allies._ ’ the deep voice of the dragon said in their minds.

 

Saphira didn’t voice her disagreement with the young dragon’s words as she nodded in return, accepting his explanation, but not seeming to agree with him either.  

 

“Amrum is right. We simply can’t stand back and do nothing, even if we like it or not the Vanyalí Have put us under the light and it’s in us to act or look weak in the eyes of the people of Alagäesia.” Dûrion said, backing the dragon’s words before they could be refuted. 

    

“But if we do act then the people will know we’ve given in to the demands of a terrorist group.” Jaida hissed. 

 

Before Dûrion could refute her, Vikelfr -who had been quiet throughout the whole meeting- stirred in his mind, and Dûrion could feel anger flow through the bond. Much like him, Vikelfr disliked Jaida so much so that his usually stoic, and silent companion always took to anger whenever he so much as looked at her, and he didn’t really know why. Unlike most dragons and riders their relationship is not as open in communication as most other dragons and riders. This was because Vikelfr has a solitary personality, he liked to be on his own and he didn’t often share things with Dûrion, and he likewise didn’t share much with his companion. Most riders thought it odd, and his father once scolded him for it, seeing as his bond with Saphira was among the strongest and he wouldn’t understand. Just because they weren’t always with each other, or speaking to each other didn’t mean their bond wasn’t as strong. In fact, their bond was stronger than most as it was formed by unwavering trust, a trust that was built in battle and throughout their everyday life, rather than the bond that forced a rider and dragon together. However, despite this he didn’t know quite why Vikelfr disliked Jaida so much, he guessed it had to do with her dragon Nymryt rejecting his mating fight, something that he knew wounded his companion’s ego greatly. Vikelfr -as most dragons- saw himself as mighty, and practically above all other dragons, and having flown and spent his time among wild dragons he thought himself above most of his fellow dragons, so when Nymryt rejected him that really broke something in him. However, he doubted that was it seeing as that had happened years ago, and he should have gotten over it by now, especially since he has had a few mates since then.   

 

_‘Is the way the world of men perceive us really more important than fulfilling our duty to our allies?’_ asked Vikelfr to all of them, his voice deeper than any other dragon present, calling most to attention because of it. 

 

As if spurred by Vikelfr words, everyone began to discuss quietly among each other, while Nymryt bared her fangs partially at Vikelfr who didn’t even look at her but he could tell that his companion was about ready to snap at the other dragon. Before he could, however, he sent soothing emotions to him which he accepted. 

 

Their discussion continued until Eragon stood on his feet and everyone quickly quieted.

 

“It appears we stand divided, so I will hold a vote.” he declared, and Dûrion raised a brow. It wasn’t often that his father would hold a vote. He usually decided everything. 

 

  “Those in favour of Jaida raise your hand.”

 

As he had expected a few council members raised their hands, while the dragons nodded. Interestingly enough some dragons didn’t agree with their companions. 

 

“Those in favour of Dûrion raise your hand”

 

At the mention of his name, almost everyone raised their hand, and so Eragon nodded, to which Jaida pretended not to care. 

 

His father nodded but didn’t look too happy either. Despite having spent most of his young life in battle his father hated conflict, but he abhorred needless death more than anything, which is why he accepted Dûrion’s choice of action.    

 

“Very well, we shall go with Dûrion’s plan. How soon can you depart?” asked his father, his eyes landing on his for the second time since he came in the room. As he looked at him, not once did he show any fatherly love, in fact, he regarded him colder than any council member, and he wasn’t shocked or affected by it. He and his father never saw eye to eye, especially not at the moment. It was actually funny how most people thought he was his father’s favourite when they couldn’t be further from the truth.  

 

“This very evening, I already have a handful of riders that would be willing to part with me right now,” he said, looking straight at Lánvue, a blond-haired elf who had been his first pupil, and through her actions in Alagaësia alongside him she had earned everyone's respect despite her lack of years among the riders. Much like all other riders, her dark blue dragon sat behind her looking straight at Dûrion.

 

His father nodded curtly and stood from his seat, and everyone followed suit.

 

“You’re all dismissed, tend to your riders,” he told them, and with that everyone made their way out of the hall, while a few stayed behind to talk among each other.    

 

     “I’ll ride with you Dûrion elda.” said a deep voice from behind him. 

 

     Turning on the spot, he came eye to eye with Ulvoshz who had his fist pressed against his chest, with a wide grin upon his lips, happy of the prosper of battle to come. Out of all the council members, Ulvoshz is like a loose arrow, he’s unpredictable and thirsty for battle which is why he’s one of the greatest swordsmen among the riders, having trained every moment of every day for the day he’ll finally get to draw his sword against an opponent. Because of that, he would make a great ally, but also one he’ll need to keep an eye on. 

 

     “Of course,” he told the Urgal, who’s smile widened and bowed slightly and walked to the entrance of the hall with his dragon Jynirruss following closely behind him.

 

“I’ll be preparing,” Ulvoshz said, and with that, he left the hall. 

 

_‘We have to keep an eye on him, he’s a strong asset, but even the mightiest warriors can cut themselves with the sharpest swords.’_ Vikelfr said, his large golden eyes on him as he remained seated behind him.

 

He and Vikelfr -unlike the others- didn’t make a move to leave the hall, he simply remained seated on his chair watching everyone leave, all except his father and Saphira who remained seated.

 

Once everyone had left, and after Jaida had left after looking at him skeptically, and leaving alongside Nymryt, his father gave out a long tired sigh and slumped back in his chair, his eyes giving away how tired he was. Lately, his father has been inundated with work. From accepting a larger than usual group of new riders, the usual duties that came with being the head of the rider, and now with the attack his father seldom had the time to so much as sleep. He did feel a little sorry for his father, but in the end, it’s his duty. 

 

“What do you think of this attack?” asked his father, crossing his arms and looking at him curiously. 

 

Dûrion leaned back on his chair and adopted a more relaxed posture. He knew his father wasn’t asking for him to give him the same answer he’d given the council, he wanted his honest opinion, something he’d often asked him for.

 

Giving out a deep breath, he closed his eyes as if in thought.

 

“I don’t necessarily think that what they want is wrong,” he said, opening his eyes.

 

“It’s been seventy-four years since you left Alagaësia, much has changed since then. There may not be any wars, but the people are still as divided. Elves still can’t travel freely outside Elven cities, Dwarfs are a rare sight to see, and Urgals… well, the same prejudice is just as strong as it was back then. And wild dragons, which we have done our best to reintroduce to the land aren’t as accepted as one would hope.”

 

At the mention of people not accepting the wild dragons in Alagaësia, Saphira growled. She’s the one who raised the first wild dragons, and despite their arrogance wild dragons looked on to Saphira in reverence. 

 

His father sighed, snapping him out of his thoughts.  

 

“And those who wield magic are treated the worse.” his father sighed and shook his head in disbelief. 

 

He knew his father also, doesn't agree with the many laws created by the king, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. If he were to go to Alagaësia it would be a different matter, but his father refused to leave the mountain. And besides, the lands of men don’t look as highly on his father as they used to. Men are mortal, and those that fought in the war against Galbatorix are either dead or too old to remember. Of course, it was a different matter with the elves, and dwarfs who still very much remember. 

 

     His father hummed thoughtfully, looking ahead into emptiness. 

 

“This used to be a lot easier.” his father huffed.

 

He didn’t explain further what he had meant.

 

For a little while, they all remained quiet, as they looked ahead until Dûrion chose to ask what he had wanted to ask since everyone left.

 

_`’you already know the answer, why even ask?’_ huffed Vikelfr.

 

Dûrion didn’t answer as he looked from the centre of the table to look at his father, who’s eyelids were fluttering to sleep ever so slightly. 

 

Going straight to the point, Dûrion spoke.

 

“I want Evandar to come with me.”

    

     Instantly, and as fast as a thrust of a sword, his father’s eyes quickly snapped open, and he jerked his head to look at him as if he’d gone insane. 

 

     Dûrion kept his expression cold as always, as he met his father’s eyes, he had expected his reaction. This was the main cause for their current falling out. Due to his brother’s complicated birth, his father has always been incredibly overprotective of him, to the point that he barely let him out of his sight. Evandar wasn’t allowed to venture into the forest, he wasn’t allowed to partake in dangerous training, and after he almost fell from Saphira’s saddle one day his father prohibited him from flying, something Saphira thankfully disagreed with and didn’t listen too. He knew his father wasn’t completely wrong to be overprotective of Evandar, he did almost die as a newborn, and he spent most of his childhood sick and bedridden. In Vikelfr’s harsh words, his brother is a runt. He’s slower and weaker than a regular elf, and he’s practically at the level of a human when it comes to magic, but despite that, he still has hope in his brother, a hope his father didn’t share. Don’t get him wrong, his father isn’t a bad person, but sometimes his parenting skills can be quite lacking.

 

     His father opened his mouth, but before he could refuse, Dûrion spoke.  

 

“I won’t bring him with us to Teirm. I plan to travel to Carvahall castle for provisions, I’ll leave him there where he’ll be safe.” 

 

Instantly his father furrowed his brows in mistrust. 

 

“Why even bring him if you’re not planning to bring him with you?” he asked like he had some ulterior motive.

 

“He’s never been to Alagaësia,” he responded simply.

 

Once more his father opened his mouth to say something, but he spoke before he could.

 

“I’ve been training him, he still has much to learn in the ways of the sword, and magic but I believe he’s ready to leave the mountain.” 

 

For a little while, both of them remained quiet, both of them looking at each other. Meanwhile, both dragons looked on at their riders, not interrupting or saying anything. He knew without asking that Saphira agrees with him, and Vikelfr… well, he disliked carrying burdens, but he didn’t voice his dislike.

 

Finally, after what felt like hours his father responded.

 

“You want to send Evandar to Alagaësia when the Vanyalí are at the most dangerous?” He asked as if he had gone mad.

 

A pang of anger hit him, but he kept his composure as he straightened up, ready to respond but just as he’d done to him, his father didn’t let him answer.

 

“Evandar will remain in Arngor.” was all he said with finality, leaving him with no room to argue. 

 

 Dûrion looked at his father coldly, his expression unreadable. He wanted very much to snap, and argue but he knew that wouldn't help him so he bit his tongue. Even when his father stood from his chair, and made his way to the door he didn’t say anything he simply looked at him.

 

 

  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the drawing I made of Eragon's statue, I wanted to draw Saphira but it would have taken me a lot of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so new Eragon fic, alright this will be awesome.
> 
> I've been a huge fan of the series since forever, even though it's been a while since I last read it so if I make a few mistakes here and there sorry about that.
> 
> So this was just the epilogue, so next chapter I'll introduce you to our main character for their fic and I hope all of you are looking forward to that.
> 
> So hope you enjoyed, are excited, and are looking forward for more.


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